Game and Match, America Six Games to Love
by Kyoka-BOO
Summary: Tezuka and Fuji transfer to America for high school. It's far from what they expected. [Oneshot, Slight TezukaxFuji]


This is a way of satisfying my muses. This is, by far, the most lighthearted fic that I've ever written. Enjoy, although I have a horrid sense of humor and I don't expect that this will make you laugh much. This is truly a oneshot, written and edited in one sitting. Enjoy, and as always, reviews are appreciated.

* * *

**Game and Match, America—Six games to love**

It was bound to be an interesting year, as Fuji had said upon he and Tezuka receiving letters inviting them to a school in America. They were being scouted for the school's tennis team—and for their grades, of course. As the headmaster of the school had written, "having you as a student would be a valuable asset to the entire school." For a moment, Fuji stared at his own letter. Surely, they weren't exactly prime candidates. Sure, they were very good at tennis; some of the best in Japan, many would say. However, there were many others in America just about as good as they were who likely yearned for a scholarship to the school. It was so much closer, and it would be easier to throw them in the mix, less chance of culture shock.

It was one week later the school had called to confirm. Both Tezuka and Fuji accepted with gratitude. The following summer they were off to the boarding school in America. Tezuka flipped through a tennis magazine with a bored expression while Fuji flipped through some American horror novel he'd picked up to help him brush up on his English. By the slightly green tinge to Fuji's cheeks, Tezuka could only guess that either the turbulent air had more of an effect on his stomach than expected, or the author had a rather morbid sense of writing. Eventually, suspicions confirmed, Fuji set the book aside, slightly paler than normal.

Shaking his head, he regained his normal happy expression. Tezuka could've sworn he heard Fuji mutter under his breath "Tasteless, the lot of it," An unmistakable smirk remained on his lips for only a millisecond. That wasn't enough time for the flustered Fuji to notice. Sighing, he handed Fuji his tennis magazine claiming that he'd finished it and he would take a nap. Secretly, through half closed eyes he could watch the damage that the words of that book had done to Fuji. Though the tensai tried desperately to concentrate on the article about proper grip methods and different tennis racquets, his eyes casually would stray over to the book, which was lying on the food tray and seeming innocent enough. From the way Fuji looked at it, the book was a monster and could lash out at any moment. Where had the ever-stoic Shuusuke gone? With a soundless chuckle he later took the book and flipped through it.

This book was sickening. He glared down at the pages. Something about a women getting raped and then killed—it was like the incarnation of a slasher movie in book form, except vulgar and with… vivid descriptions. Muffled, Fuji giggled. Tezuka resisted the urge to toss the book at the nearest stranger's head—the man sitting in the row across from them. Those Americans _were_ tasteless! Giving the book one last glare, he handed it a rather amused-looking Fuji and hurriedly stole his tennis magazine back.

It was only a foreboding of the _horrors _to come.

* * *

Over breakfast two weeks later, things had been quite uneventful. Only, they were to discover America was full of people more eccentric then the strangest people at Seishun Gakuen. Tennis hadn't even started it. In America, rather than regulars there were teams. If somebody wanted to play tennis, they had to try out for the team. There wasn't a tennis club that they could just be in. Already, they were getting to know the people there weren't very fond of surname usage. The teachers did it, of course, but the students hated it. They had horrid pronunciation. 

"Shuu-su-ke" he corrected for about the millionth time that day. "Fu-ji Shuu-su-ke." The boy looked at him. "Shoeseki, alright, then!" Fuji winced at the word, but seemed to understand they wouldn't pronounce it right. Even after he added, "You can just call me Fuji," the boy seemed intent on using his first name.

Across the school, Tezuka wasn't having much luck. "Why won't you speak to me?!?" A girl practically sobbed and threw her rather heavy English textbook, aiming straight for his head. Just their luck; a teacher was nearby, and when Tezuka simply ducked to avoid the most certain idea of unconsciousness, the book slammed another girl straight in the head that was eventually sent to the infirmary for a severe concussion. Students stared and when Tezuka lost his cool with her and almost instinctively ordered her to do twenty laps, although speaking in Japanese, a teacher dragged him to his office and he was given a thorough scolding. Obviously, it wasn't believed that he'd just simply said a rather innocent phrase in Japanese. All the other teachers agreed—he had screamed obscenities at her and was just trying to get away with it.

* * *

"My data indicates there's a 98.5 chance that you will have rather forceful fans in your new school." Read a letter from Inui. "Therefore, I am sending my special, improved Inui juice just in case. My apologies if this doesn't reach you—they're pretty strict in customs, I assume." As promised, there was a thermos of neon green liquid. "P.S.—There's a 99 chance that your teachers will confiscate this if they find it, so do your best to keep it hidden." 

'Culture shock' wouldn't have been the proper way to define what exactly Fuji and Tezuka were going through. Tezuka had nearly spat out the cafeteria food on his first day, and he'd already been to the infirmary three times for food poisoning. Obviously, Western food didn't agree very well with his stomach and the school didn't often have Japanese food on the menu because it didn't _agree_ with the other student's stomachs. Now Tezuka was doing his best to avoid all things American. He jumped at the opportunity to get a large plate of rice or steamed vegetables. Fuji found this all entertaining. He was the one who loved wasabi sushi and ate it by the plateful, the only one who was able to stomach Inui juice, so he was able to manage eating some of the horrendous cafeteria food.

Tezuka, however, was in for a shock when Fuji tricked him into eating meat surprise one gloomy Tuesday night by claiming it tasted like his favorite food. Tezuka obviously hadn't been able to take much of it. After three bites he was in the infirmary for the rest of the night. That was the majority of the problems Tezuka went through.

How did Fuji deal with it? Simple. He brought his beloved cactus along to America with him. He'd shocked a good deal of innocent tennis team members already when they happened to walk in on him when he spoke with it. "He talks to a CACTUS! How weird can you get?" Fuji just smiled and continued his conversation with 'Tezu-kun'. He'd named it that earlier just to see Tezuka's reaction. Nobody would go near Fuji's precious cactus, and soon rumors of the plant being possessed by the spirit of a dead Japanese warrior name 'Tezu-kun' began to spread around school like wildfire.

* * *

Fuji and Tezuka were adjusting, and studying English in the library by day along with their other subjects when not at practice. "They study too much," one kid had said. It was the team's unanimous opinion that they both needed to get laid. It took Fuji forever to figure out what the English slang had meant—he of course couldn't ask a teacher and it would've been embarrassing to ask their peers. Tezuka only scoffed. "They really are tasteless," he said in reply, perhaps still lingering on the memories of the horror book he'd somehow had the stupidity to pick up and read. 

"Let's rip their clothes off and sell them on e-bay!" There was a horde of girls before them. Tezuka cursed in Japanese. Fuji tried to remain calm and smile. Obviously, he thought they were joking. They'd become very… er… popular around the girls. Only when they start to advance that he finally got a clue. Grabbing Tezuka's hand and the Inui juice he'd somehow been suspicious enough to carry around, he ran with the screaming pack of women close on their tails.

When it was obvious they were cornered, Tezuka turned towards Fuji. At that moment he wouldn't say anything. His eyes said it all. 'If we get our clothes ripped off, somebody's going to take the blame and it mind as well be you.' Fuji, not being the one to be so fond of screaming girls, couldn't blame him.

"Tezuka-kun." That was enough. The man sighed in annoyance and pulled him close, in a kiss. God forbid, those girls fell deadly silent, and surprisingly they stopped in their tracks. Many began to sob. Their beautiful Shuusuke and Kunimitsu couldn't be gay, especially not together! Briefly his eyes flicked to the girls. Most had backed off. Some were cautiously approaching with a bug-eyed look in their eyes. _Shit._ With a cry of "My love," He retreated from the girls and dragged a rather shocked Tezuka along until they reached a janitor's closet. The door slammed behind them. Immediately the girls went off in another direction, much like a mad stampede.

Fuji gave a sigh of relief. Conditions were cramped here, as he and Tezuka were practically sitting in each other's laps. "American girls are persistent," Fuji comments as his breathing slows. Tezuka plays with his shirtsleeve and straightens his glasses.

"Persistent?" He asks with an annoyed chuckle. "They're vultures, Fuji. You don't think we'd get into too much trouble if we used the Inui Juice against them, do you?" Already, they were both at the end of their ropes. Fuji gave Tezuka a cool glare, very similar to the one's he used on the tennis courts. "Tezuka! Of course we would!"

"Shut up! Somebody's coming!" Footsteps approach, and the doorknob to the closet turns." Thinking it was one of the girls, Tezuka seizes Fuji's lips again assumes a rather suggestive position. Fuji doesn't have much of a choice but to go along. Still, their faces are beat red from doing this, especially in the eyes of so many. Instead, they meet a shocked teammate who runs off, but not before taking a blinding snapshot of them.

* * *

The following week they've made the front page of the school newspaper. "School transfer students—a couple" Tezuka throws the paper to the other side of the dormitory. 

"Do you think if we told them that the cactus spirit of yours was vengeful towards anybody who came near us, they would finally leave us alone."

"Leave Tezu-kun out of this," he counters, not realizing the irony of what he just said. Sure, it would be interesting, but this was going to be a _long_ year. Maybe he should have followed Tezuka's advice of using the Inui Juice against those girls rather than throwing it away. Fuji hated it when he was wrong like that.

Somewhere, somehow, Fuji was able to imagine that there was a higher power laughing at them all the while saying "Game and match, America. Six games to love."


End file.
